


Just My Type

by aloha_cowgirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Attraction, Ficlet, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious, Praise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 16:49:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19299787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aloha_cowgirl/pseuds/aloha_cowgirl
Summary: Dean and Cas discuss the type of people they're attracted to.





	Just My Type

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FeaRauko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeaRauko/gifts).



Dean chuckled into his beer as he watched Sam across the room putting his best moves on the prettiest girl-next-door type in the place.

“Look at’m go, Cas. That used to be me, y’know. Different town, different girl...”

“I’m aware,” Castiel answered. The tone of annoyance in his voice made Dean grin.

“Aw, c’mon, Cas. What about you? I mean, look at you…” Dean had to stop himself from adding _you’re freakin’ hot_ and he felt the warmth of a blush creeping into his cheeks. “You must’ve been ruffling some feathers up in Heaven.”

Castiel glared at him. The danger behind that icy stare steered Dean away from the subject.

“Alright, then...” He gestured at the people that crowded the barroom. “What’s your type?”

Castiel raised one questioning brow. “My type?”

“Yeah, you know, your _type_. Like, what do you find attractive? What do you like?” Dean slid his stool a little closer so that they were elbow to elbow. “Okay, look at her, right there. The one in the blue.” He pointed toward a curvy blonde in a tight dress chatting with a shy-looking man at the corner of the bar. “Do you find her attractive?”

Castiel studied the woman, probably for too long because Dean was already beginning to think this was a stupid conversation and he wanted Castiel to stop already.

“She’s confident. I suppose _that’s_ attractive,” Castiel finally said, eyes still squinted in her direction. “But the man she’s talking to has much more attractive qualities.”

Dean choked on his beer. “That—That’s, uh, not exactly what I expected,” he coughed, “but, uh, go on.”

“I’m doing something wrong,” Castiel said, looking disappointed.

Dean felt like a jerk for putting that look on his face. “No, Cas, not at all. I was just expecting ‘hot blonde with a nice bod,’ or something. Your stuff’s better though. Keep going. Tell me about the guy.”

Castiel surveyed Dean’s face a moment before deciding to continue. “He’s kind. Charitable. He cares a great deal about his family. He visits his grandmother every weekend.”

Dean couldn’t help but chuckle and smile at his friend. “Alright, then. So, Cas likes a family man.”

The angel just shrugged and took a swig of his beer while Dean scanned the room again.

“Okay, what about her?” He pointed the neck of his bottle toward a curly-haired woman nursing a cocktail as she sat alone at a table.  

“She’s intelligent. Almost as passionate about her books as you are about your music.” He hesitated a moment before continuing with a tiny smile. “She’s brave.”

“Smart, brave, passionate, family man,” Dean listed. “—or woman.”

“I suppose I do have a ‘type,’” Castiel said, more to himself than Dean, though Dean’s stomach was doing somersaults for some reason.

“So, what about him?” Dean asked, nodding toward a dark-haired man chatting up four giggling women. The man was gorgeous with perfectly tanned skin and luxurious wavy hair that’d make Sam envious.

Castiel turned to look at the man, but quickly rolled his eyes and looked back at Dean. “I believe he’s more your type than mine.”

This time Dean didn’t choke. Nope, this time he actually spit his beer out all over the counter, much to the chagrin of the bartender. Dean reached across the bar to swipe a towel from the counter behind it and mopped up the mess as he tried and failed to sound casual, “Wh-what are you talking about?”

“He’s physically attractive, but doesn’t have much substance,” Castiel said snidely, ignoring the disaster beside him. “I believe those are _your_ preferred attributes.”

Dean froze, hurt. “Is that really what you think?”

Castiel’s eyes widened as he stared apologetically at his friend. “I’m sorry. I—I didn’t mean that. I don’t know why I said it.”

They fell quiet for a while, both doubling up on their alcohol until Sam found his way back to them.

“What’s wrong with you two?” he asked as he approached.

Dean glanced at Castiel and decided to ignore the question. “Hey, Sammy. How’s it going with your, uh, new friend?”

Sam ran his hands through his hair, pushing it out of his face. “Um, actually, that’s what I was coming to tell you. Lauren and I are gonna take off. I, uh, I’ll meet up with you guys in the morning. Don’t wait up.”

“That’s my boy,” Dean said. “Have fun, Sammy. Don’t be dumb.”

Castiel nodded to Sam. “She seems like a good person, Sam. Have a good time. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Sam gave them a quick smile and bid them goodnight before he and Lauren disappeared through the door.

After a few more minutes of being lost in his thoughts, Dean pushed away his almost empty beer bottle.

“Hey, Cas, you wanna get out of here?”

Castiel looked at him curiously but shrugged. “Okay.”

Dean didn’t really have anywhere else to go, but he knew he didn’t feel like sitting in silence in this busy bar anymore, and he wasn’t ready to go back to the motel yet—it was promising to be a long and awkward night without Sam as a buffer. When they reached the parking lot, instead of heading to the Impala, Dean led Castiel toward the sidewalk. The angel still looked curious but didn’t comment as they walked along the dark street and into a well-manicured park down the block.

“You know, you’ve got it all wrong, Cas,” Dean said as they rounded the duck pond. He appreciated that Castiel wouldn’t bother pretending not to know what he was talking about.

“Dean, I told you, I didn’t mean—”

“Y’know, just because I sleep with them… that doesn’t mean they’re what I’d call ‘my type,’” Dean rattled on, determined to set Castiel straight. “I mean, I have standards. Besides, they don’t even really know me. They just see me as this mysterious stranger that they’ll never see again and I—”

“Dean, I was jealous.”

They both stopped walking and Dean had seemingly lost the ability to speak. He watched as Cas stuck his fingers into his hair in frustration, making it stand even more than it usually did.

“Dean, I know you. I know who you are, inside and out. I know you’re a brave, kind man. You are passionate and stubborn and confident. You’re sensitive, even though you don’t show it. You love your family and you would sooner put yourself in harm’s way than see them suffer even a little. You’re incredibly smart even though you don’t always believe it. Your soul is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. And you chose _them_.”

The passion in Castiel’s voice died out and he dropped down onto a bench. “I—I didn’t know for a long time why I always assumed they were terrible humans, not until I became human myself. Then I realized it wasn’t them that I hated at all… It was your choosing them that I hated.”

Dean felt lightheaded and his heart had probably stopped beating for an unhealthy amount of time now. He was still frozen to the spot, letting Castiel’s confession wash over him. He expected himself to go into a panic or to at least freak out in some kind of way, but he didn’t. Instead, he felt unusually calm. Relieved, even.

But then, Dean Winchester works best under pressure.

He stood in front of Castiel with his arms crossed. “You didn’t let me finish.”

Castiel looked up, confused. “What?”

Dean sat beside him, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as he fidgeted his fingers. “You didn’t let me finish telling you what my type really is.” His tone was calm but his heart was racing.

“Oh,” was all Castiel could manage, but his eyes were locked on Dean.

“My type is stubborn. But willing to bend the rules if it’s for the right reasons. Loyal to a fault. Maybe a little dry with the humor,” he added with a smile. “He knows me. Calls me on my shit. He never puts himself first, even though, to me, he’s one of the most important people on Earth—or Heaven. And definitely Hell. That’s where it all started, after all.” He locked onto Castiel’s icy blue eyes looking for understanding. “He’s the kind of person that can make me fall in love with him without even realizing it.”

“It almost sounds like you’re talking about someone specific,” Castiel said carefully.

Dean gave him a little smirk. “Apparently my type’s a little slow on the uptake, too.”

Castiel smiled back as Dean leaned in to kiss him. It was soft and slow at first—a promise of things to come—then deepening into something more heated.

When they broke apart, Dean hummed, his heart filled with content. Castiel leaned in again, placing a single peck on the lobe of Dean’s ear, sending shivers down his spine. But that was nothing compared to the gruff whisper that made Dean thankful they’d have their motel room to themselves that night: “Just my type.”


End file.
